almost, but not quite (not yet) (soon, maybe)
by AtLoLevad
Summary: Wednesdays are Ice Cream Days


Wednesdays are ice cream days. Tony never really set out to make it a habit, but you never can plan for everything, can you?

It starts out simply enough. Tali's daycare is down the block and her early afternoon release left a lot of daylight to burn. Plus, the sheer excitement on the little girl's face when she dug into a chocolate cone was worth the sugar high and crash that were inevitable.

They follow the routine for a couple of weeks, Tali chattering happily at his side. She's telling him about the splashing fight she and several of her little friends had gotten into at the water table when a chill runs down the back of neck and the hair on his arms stands up. His grip on Tali's hand tightens and he tunes her out completely, covertly looking around them.

He doesn't see anything or anyone, but that doesn't mean they're safe, doesn't mean he can let his guard down.

It's been a long time since Tony felt like there was a reason to be on edge, but with Tali in his life - with Ziva out of his life - he feels too paranoid, too skittish, too concerned with who might be out there looking to hurt him or Tali.

So, with Tali complaining - "Too fast, Daddy! You're hurtin' my arm!" - he hurries them back to the apartment, overthinking the chill he had felt and trying to silence the little voice in the back of his head that says maybe, just maybe it's not a threat and maybe, just maybe it's her.

He wipes the chocolate moustache from Tali's face and closes his eyes against the intrusive thought. It's not her and he needs to stop thinking that every flash of dark curls he sees on the streets are her because his heart just can't take it anymore. The trail's dried up, it's been nearly a year and he hasn't found her, hasn't so much as heard a peep about her. The pain is crippling.

"Daddy?" Tali pipes up, all high-pitched voice and big brown eyes - Ziva's eyes.

"Yeah, squirt?" he replies, wiping off a final smudge with a flourish that gets the toddler giggling.

"Can we go to park?" she grins, patting his cheeks.

Tony snorts - not with the way his sixth sense had been tingling. "Nah, there's too many snotty Parisian kids there. How about I put on Beauty and the Beast and we build a fort?" he suggests instead.

Tali lights up and clambers to kneel on the couch and get her face close to Tony's. He can't help but grin as she asks, "Will you dance me?"

"Of course!" he says, lifting her under the armpits and swinging her in the air, her shrieks and giggles filling the apartment. It's more than enough for Tony to forget about the tingle on the back of his neck.

* * *

They don't go for ice cream for a couple of weeks - bad weather keeps them indoors and a visit from Senior means they go to fancier restaurants instead of their local haunts.

But then Senior's back in New York and spring is blooming in Paris and Tali begs for ice cream.

"Okay, okay, cool your jets kid," Tony laughs, swinging her up onto his shoulders with just a little groan. Her tiny hands grip his hair for balance and Tony's painfully reminded of a different David woman perched on his shoulders, pulling at his hair to direct him to turn in a certain direction. He swallows heavily and blinks the moisture from his eyes.

He walks the few blocks to the ice cream parlor with Tali on his shoulders, pointing out different landmarks and laughing when Tali asks about the pigeons. It's nice and easy and Tony thinks about how difficult it had been only a few months ago. He wishes Ziva were here with them.

Tali gets off his shoulders when they reach the parlor, rushing forward and pressing tiny hands against the glass display case. She scrutinizes the flavors carefully, under the amused eye of the owner, an older woman named Amélie. They've become fast friends with Amélie, due to their numerous visits to her shop.

"What flavor today, cherie?" she asks Tali in heavily accented English. Tony's grateful that she speaks English because his French sucks and he's not picking it up as fast as he'd like.

He watches as Tali pretends to think, even though they all know what she's going to pick. Sure enough, a moment later, she pipes up, "Chocolate, sil plate!"

Amélie lets out an amused chuckle at Tali's toddler French and sets about to scooping the cold treat into a cone. She passes it over the counter to Tony, who passes it down to Tali. She takes it happily and dives in.

Tony hands over his card to pay and Amélie asks, "None for papà today?"

"Trying to be good," Tony grins and pats his stomach. "Don't lose as much as I thought I would running after the little tornado."

Amélie laughs and waves them out of her shop with a bright smile. And who said the French were snooty, Tony thinks to himself.

"Daddy! Up!" Tali demands, ice cream melting down her arm. Tony takes one look at the sticky mess and grimaces.

"You sure?" he asks carefully, trying to convey with his tone just how much he doesn't want to hoist the ice cream covered toddler onto his shoulders.

"Up!" Tali grins and then belatedly adds, "Please?"

"Okay," Tony shakes his head and grabs Tali under the armpits, "we're rolling with the toddler related punches today, I guess."

Once Tali's secure on his shoulders and Tony's sure she's started dripping chocolate ice cream into his hair, he starts the walk back to their apartment. Tali's shouting down to him, excited about the latest development in Peppa Pig's world and Tony listens half-heartedly. His gut is telling him something and he's not sure what it is.

Still half-listening to Tali, Tony looks around him, searching out inconsistencies in their surroundings. He doesn't notice anything, until he does.

It's the beanie that gives her away in the end.

On a gorgeous, sunny nearly 80-degree day? No one's wearing anything heavier than a denim jacket.

Save for the distant figure with a grey cap pulled low over dark curls.

Tony's heart thumps painfully in his chest and he slows his pace, waiting for her to drop the camera from her sunglasses covered eyes.

She does and they make eye contact.

His heart stops and his stomach sinks to his feet.

She stands stock still, her mouth slightly slack.

He lifts his hand in a partial wave, an acknowledgement of her presence.

She doesn't wave back instead, he watches as she bites her lip and turns on her heel, practically running in the opposite direction.

Tony swallows heavily, a knot forming in his stomach. Ice cream drips from Tali's hand into his hair and she pats the side of his cheek, asking why they stopped.

"Sorry, munchkin," he replies absently, still staring at the spot Ziva had been standing in. He makes no moves to start walking.

How long had she been there? How long had she been in Paris?

His mind races with questions and he feels like he could throw up. He's been looking for her for so long and just when he's about to give up, there she is, right in front of him.

God, his life is just one sick, twisted joke.

Tali tugs at his hair and one little sneaker covered heel thumps against his chest, as if he's a horse she's trying to spur into a gallop.

He shakes his head and mutters nonsense under his breath. He has to focus on Tali - she's all that matters right now. Whatever Ziva - if that really was Ziva - whatever she's up to will make sense in the near future, he hopes.

Every cell in his body wants to run after her, to make her explain, to bring her home.

But Tali whines about needing the potty and Tony jolts, immediately picking up his pace. Okay, yeah, potty definitely takes precedence.

* * *

Ziva tugs the soft grey beanie down more securely over her curls. She hopes Tony actually shows up today.

It's been weeks since she's seen them - Tony and Tali - and her heart hurts more and more with each day that passes without a sighting. Her anxious mind races to the worst possible outcomes and it takes all her strength to shut those thoughts away and tell herself that Tony's probably just realized that too much ice cream isn't good for their little girl.

Just as she's ready to call it and go back to her safe house, a loud peal of laughter - familiar laughter - catches her attention. Her heart constricts in her chest as she lifts the camera to her eyes. Ziva zooms in a little and there they are - Tony and Tali, her family.

Ziva watches as Tony lifts Tali up into his shoulders and begins walking. From this distance, she can't hear what they're saying, but she can see Tali's mouth moving a mile a minute. It makes her smile; their chatterbox daughter having inherited that trait from Tony. She snaps a few pictures, going slow and indulging herself in the sight of the two most important people in her world.

All she wants is to be with them. To hold Tali's hand as she sits on Tony's shoulders, even though it'll cause an ache in her own shoulder. To hand Tony napkins that he'll use to wipe the melted ice cream from his hair. To laugh with them both.

As she's indulging in the desires that she's come to deem forbidden until it's all over, Tony stops and looks over.

Right at her.

Her heart stops in her chest and she's still for a few stuttered heartbeats.

He doesn't stop staring and slowly, so slowly, she lowers the camera from her face.

They make eye contact and her stomach swoops like she's on a rollercoaster. A tiny gasp escapes past her lips and Tony lifts his hand in a wave.

She blinks harshly behind her sunglasses, bites her lower lip, and runs.

She runs and runs and hates herself for doing this to Tony, to Tali, to herself.

* * *

When Wednesday rolls around again, Tony casually suggests ice cream to his young daughter.

"Yes!" she bounces excitedly, even though Tony's tone is far from casual and in fact sounds like he's being strangled. But Tali doesn't notice Tony's internal struggle and skips around, gathering her shoes and jacket.

He's excited himself - more to see if Ziva will be back than to get ice cream. Something tells him that she'll be there and he wants another glimpse of her to make sure the last time wasn't a fluke.

Tony's on high alert as they walk, his head swinging from side to side to frequently he's definitely going to feel like crap in the morning. But he can't help it - any of these people could be Ziva.

He feels a little paranoid, looking around so much, until he's rewarded with a glimpse of familiar dark hair. It's straight this time, as if she thought it might throw him off.

_Joke's on you, Ziva_, Tony thinks smugly, _I'd recognize you anywhere._

Working quickly, he kneels down next to Tali and grins widely. "Hey, kiddo, look over there," he points in Ziva's direction, but just slightly to the left. "I think I saw a unicorn."

Tali squeals excitedly and turns, clapping her hands and shouting, "Where, Daddy?"

Tony feels bad for misleading the little girl, but he knows that by directing her attention in that direction, Ziva will be able to get a clear shot of Tali's face, full on.

And that feels really important to him, now that he has at least an inkling of what she's up to.

Before they continue on their way, Tony makes a point to look in Ziva's direction. The crowd has picked up again, but he thinks he sees her. He winks in her direction, a little signal that Ice Cream Day will be a tradition as long as she needs it to be.

* * *

_A/N: more feels! the title's from a quote by joan bauer that easylion posted on tumblr. not much to say other than this little family continues to kill me in the best way possible._


End file.
